Love Songs
by spero spiro
Summary: After the Winter War, Matsumoto Rangiku has a serenading ghost. Gin/Rangiku. Halloween fic.


**Love Songs**

**Note: This was written for the 31_days challenge over at livejournal, for the Halloween theme: 'conversations with dead people'. I really had about five separate ideas for this story, some of which will pop back up in some form or another, but this particular one came from a Japanese superstition that hearing singing before you fall asleep means that the dead are trying to speak to you. It was much less complex at first, but after reading ArtemisRae's Fullmetal Alchemist Halloween fic, Everything I've Ever Had, it sort of cinched this plot for me. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any of its spin-off things, and I'm not making any money from the creation of my fanworks. **

When the war ended, the singing began.

In the dark solitude of her room, just before she fell asleep every night, Rangiku heard soft humming. It broke apart the silence of the room and tangled itself into her mind, burrowing in as a preview for the night's dreams. For the first few weeks, she didn't recognize the songs, until it struck her in the middle of the day that it was the same songs _he_ used to sing her to sleep. When they lived together as children, he'd sing a soft lullaby and stroke her hair. When they were older, _much_ older, he'd sing after making love to her, a gentle love song that betrayed a softer side of him that vaporized the moment somnolence took her and he left her alone in her bed. It had always been like that, so she didn't _really_ mind. At least, that was, until they came back to haunt her.

The humming would reverberate through her heart, twisting puppet strings around it before the lullabies began. When she was asleep, the love songs would sing through her veins while the music twisted her heart until she was startled awake by the cold sweat that clung to her skin and the shuddering twist in her chest. She would lay back down to sleep and the vicious cycle would continue.

She worked methodically in the Tenth Division office, pressing beyond her typical schedule until she was arriving before Hitsugaya-_taichou_ and leaving long after he did. Sleep, something she had once cherished and adored, now terrified her. Rather, it wasn't that sleep frightened her as much as the dreams, and the singing. The awful, wonderful singing.

Hitsugaya-_taichou_ gave her a contemplative look one such evening before neatly stacking his completed reports and cleaning up his desk. When he was finished, he stood up, pushed in his chair and walked around the desk, tucking his hands into his sleeves and pausing in front of her desk.

"Don't stay too late tonight, Matsumoto." He reminded her coldly, but she wasn't fooled. His brow was creased with worry and the harried look he hadn't completely lost since the Winter War grew worse. Hitsugaya-_taichou_ may have looked like a child at the beginning of the war, but now he looked troubled rather than petulant and his serious demeanor no longer felt like a defensive front to put off anyone from presuming his youth to be undeserving of the captaincy of the Tenth Division.

"Of course not." She murmured over her paperwork, the steady scratching of her pen tip mesmerizing him for a moment longer than he had intended.

"Matsumoto…" He murmured, and she looked up and was surprised to see that he didn't bother to mask the emotions on his face when she did so.

"Yes, _taichou_?" She looked back down at the report she was working on.

He paused, taking a moment to bring his concerns under control. "You should take some time off work if you need to. You haven't let up since the end of the war."

"I'm fine," She looked up and flashed him a weary smile. "Everything's fine, _taichou_."

He frowned and shook his head. Finally, he tore himself away from her desk and headed to the door. The early spring nights were still very cool, and Hitsugaya-_taichou_ pulled out a long scarf Hinamori-kun had made for him and wrapped it around his neck. Taking a final look over his shoulder to his surprisingly diligent _fukutaichou_, Hitsugaya disappeared through the door and into the night.

When he had been gone for a full minute, she set down her pen and buried her face in her hands. It was twice so exhausting to pretend to be functioning normally without sleep than to actually skip out on sleep itself. She _was_ managing to keep going on as normal, even though it took her longer and longer to remember how to do the reports she had in her pile. Hitsugaya had noticed the change, to her dismay, because she continuously caught him watching her in long moments of silence with a look that suggested that he was about to say something before catching her eye and going back to his work without a word.

Rubbing the heels of her hands against her eyes, she sat up straighter and brushed her long fingers over her throat—which felt parched and sore, but so did every other part of her. Taking a sip of water to alleviate the pulsing ache in her throat, she picked up the pen again. She signed her name quickly across the bottom and pushed the report away from her. Fleetingly, she wondered if she would be able to fall into dreamless sleep for how tired she was, but shook her head and seized another report.

No. The last time she had allowed herself that thought, she had ended up with the worst night of them all, and only tormented herself with the few hours of sleep she could manage. Her penmanship had suffered enormously from the change in sleep patterns, but that was no great surprise or even much of a concern. Hitsugaya-_taichou_ didn't seem to mind her handwriting so much as he worried about her well-being. Could lack of sleep kill a shinigami? Rangiku wasn't sure, but it could certainly make life miserable. It had been four days, four _long_ days, since she had last allowed herself to sleep. Hours passed by like ages. It was probably high time that she finally allowed herself to sleep, but her fear was greater than her exhaustion and she pressed on into the night.

Faintly, as she worked, she heard the humming refrains of _his_ favorite song, and she dropped the pen in horror. It happened when she slept, not when she was awake. _He_ couldn't come for her when she was awake. She rubbed her ears with her fingers and pinched her cheeks to shake her out of the sleepy stupor. It was just that she was tired, and _he_ thought she might be as easy to target as when she was falling asleep.

When the sentry bells chimed the hour, Rangiku jumped out of her reverie at the sound and stared down at the report she had been about to begin work on before the humming had started. It was nothing that couldn't wait for morning. She collected her things and left the office quietly. The cool night air bit at her face when she stepped outside and she found herself wishing she had brought something much more substantial to keep herself warm. There weren't many people on the streets of Seireitei, but whenever she passed one of the other shinigami they gave her a brief nod and hurried along their way after shooting her a peculiar look. The sooner she got back to the officer's barracks, the better. All the captains and their seated officers shared a single building for their quarters, but there didn't seem to be anyone wandering the hallways as she hurried to her own quarters.

A s she fumbled with her door, she heard a call behind her and tensed. When she turned and recognized Kira as the one who had called her, she relaxed and smiled.

"Kira, I didn't see you when I came in. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He dipped into a bow and reached for the door handle she couldn't quite grip. "It has. Are you feeling well?" He looked her over critically, having clearly already come to his own conclusions.

She turned her eyes to the ground and smiled. "I'm doing well. Just been a long day today."

He nodded and opened the door, gesturing for her to enter. As she stepped over the threshold, she beckoned for him to follow. He followed her with a curious expression on his face as she stepped into the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of water, took a drink, and then reached for her bottle of sake to replace the water.

"You'll be drinking tonight?" He asked, his tone suggesting that he clearly thought it ill-advised.

She shrugged. "My throat's been really sore lately." She held up the bottle. "What about you?"

The frown deepened. "No, and I don't know if sake will help your throat." There was a very faint hint of bewilderment in Kira's tone that suggested that he was dubious of the medicinal uses for sake. "When was the last time you slept?"

She paused, just as she was about to pour the sake. "It's been a couple days." She confessed, turning back to the sake.

His hand came from nowhere as he took both bottle and cup from her hands. "You know, maybe I will drink." He shot her a pointed look from behind the stray tuft of hair in his eyes. "You should really get some sleep, Matsumoto-san."

She turned away and took out another cup, refusing to meet his eyes. "I'm not tired." As she walked past him, she plucked the bottle of sake out of his hands.

He followed behind her, and as he settled in a chair across from her, she caught view of his anxious expression.

"Kira?" She handed him the sake bottle, which he set aside immediately. "What's wrong?"

"I…" He began, but stopped short with a sigh. "It's nothing with me. I'm concerned about you. Have you been taking care of yourself since the war?"

Draining the cup in a single motion, she forced a smile. "Of course. What's with everyone? _Taichou_ and then you. I'm _fine_."

"You just seem tired. Hitsugaya-_taichou_ has been concerned for you since… Ichimaru-san."

Her blood ran cold at _his_ name, and she shuddered unconsciously. "I told you all at the time that it was alright. What's done is done, Kira. You don't hold it against me, do you?"

"No, not at all. It's only that your relationship with Ichimaru-san seemed very important to you." He took a drink of the water in the cup.

"Ichimaru-san and I grew up together. I had… very strong feelings about him, but that was all the more reason for me to do what I did. He's dead, and that's all that matters to me now."

There was a long silence, and Rangiku heard the faint strains of the humming piercing into her brain. She shook her head as if to chase away a fly and refilled her cup with sake.

"Matsumoto-san, are you alright?"

She waved him away flippantly. "Fine, fine. Just something in my ears."

"Your… ears?"

She nodded but didn't elaborate further, choosing instead to drink her sake. Her throat was aching terribly, and she wasn't sure the sake was helping as much as making it worse. After a moment with the humming flooding her ears, she looked up to Kira with a serious expression. "I think it's _Ichimaru-san_ who hasn't moved on."

Without bothering to disguise his expression, Kira stared at her in open shock. "What do you mean, Matsumoto-san?"

"Maybe Ichimaru-san can't let go of that duel; can't let go that I won. There are stories about that sort of thing." She caught herself slurring some of her words and slowed down her speech. "The epic battle between two former lovers that culminates in one killing the other. Ghost stories and revenge and such."

"I… see." His shock turned to apprehension, and he clenched his cup tighter.

"You don't believe me." The humming in her ear was no longer soft and soothing, but more of an angry buzz, insisting she acknowledge its source. She set aside her cup and stumbled to the couch. When had she managed to get herself so drunk? Maybe if she slept a little the harassing sounds of Ichimaru's singing couldn't touch her.

"It's not that, Matsumoto-san. I just…" Kira was crossing the room to help her onto the couch. "I just don't think there can be ghosts in Seireitei."

The sound was deafening as it segued into singing that seemed to fill the room, but Kira didn't seem like he could hear it. "What was that, Kira?" She asked him over the resounding sound of singing, her hands beginning to tremble. "Could you hand me the water? My throat's getting worse."

When he obliged, she took a long drink and choked, the water gurgling in her throat. She dropped the cup, shattering the ceramic and spilling water all over her carpet.

"_Swallow it_." Kira whispered, forcing her to sit upright when she sputtered and choked on the water, which seeped from her mouth and down her front.

Her whole body was shaking; she couldn't _breathe_ and the singing was deafening. "I _can't_, Kira. What's going on?"

Pounding on her back, his expression seemed close to panic as the door opened and people began streaming into her quarters. Her eyes watered and blurred her sight as she tried to regain control of her breathing, but it was as if she had no breath left in her. The sweet melody of the love song carried through the air so she couldn't hear anything else, and it seemed as if some of the newcomers could hear it too.

_Good. I'm not the only one…_ The thought flitted across her mind, and she stole a breath from the suffocating breathlessness that had overtaken her. "Kira… He's singing to me. I can't… I can't sleep if he's haunting me."

Small but strong hands took hold of her face, wiping the moisture from her eyes so she could see that it was Hitsugaya-_taichou_. "Matsumoto… It isn't Ichimaru." He told her firmly, loudly enough to be heard over the singing, his eyes betraying the same panicked horror reflected on Kira's face. Now her eyes were clear, she could see that Unohana-_taichou_, Abarai, and Kotetsu-_fukutaichou_ were all standing around her with similar expressions.

"What are you… talking about… _taichou_?"

Unohana-_taichou_ was carefully tending to her with all the severity and professionalism she could manage, despite the fact that her motherly, affectionate smile was noticeably absent. "Don't talk anymore, Matsumoto-_fukutaichou_."

"_Taichou_?" She whispered again and felt her chest tighten in suffocation.

His face turned to sympathetic pity. "It's _you_, Matsumoto." He told her, diligently moving her hair out of the way of Unohana's hands.

And that was when the singing stopped and the screaming began.

**End**


End file.
